


If the gov't can read my mind, they know I'm thinking of you

by Firebull



Series: Realtionship Status [3]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, mix of movies and books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebull/pseuds/Firebull
Summary: Sometimes, on those rare occasions when his mind belonged to himself, Minho wondered if they could see his memories.





	If the gov't can read my mind, they know I'm thinking of you

Sometimes, on those rare occasions when his mind belonged to himself, Minho wondered if they could see his memories. It wasn't that far off what with them projecting those nightmare situations right into his head for hours on end.

Whenever those thoughts surfaced, Minho wished he didn't pay so much attention to the gladers, didn't pay so much attention to Thomas. Didn't know his weaknesses. Didn't know how to calm him down. Didn't know how often those beautiful eyes drifted to him and lingered.

He knew that they were being watched in the maze, everyone did with the camera bugs in plain sight, but once they left the bunker and entered the scorch that changed. No more cameras, only them. Well, them and Teresa who most likely told W.I.C.K.E.D. everything if Rat Man's comment about Thomas not getting what he really wanted was anything to go on.

Never the less, he let himself be a bit more affectionate, spend more time with Thomas even while carrying the new weight of being the leader. Indulged himself with soft touches and quick kisses, basking in the feeling of just being close.

Minho feared every day that they'd see one of the times they slept next to each other, when they whispered confessions to each other about their fears and hopes, of what he imagined them doing if given the chance.

Every day, he buried those memories and imaginations as they strapped him back into their machines. Only once he was back in his room, tired to the bone, did he let himself flee into his imagination.

Minho imagined an endless grass plane, far bigger than the scorch. Imagined that Thomas was there with him, the dark rings underneath his eyes gone and skin free of dirt. Imagined laying down next to him and feeling Thomas slowly running his long fingers through his hair.

In that moment he didn't care if they could see it the next time they hooked him up and let the feeling of Thomas' phantom embrace lull him to sleep.


End file.
